Not loving is free

Every month, like clockwork, my wife, Sarah Miller, would go on a business trip during her ovulation period. We'd been married for years, but still no kids. I decided to surprise her one trip, flew out to her city, and saw her leaving a fertility clinic with Ethan Reed, a hotshot doctor whod just returned from studying abroad. Turns out, those business trips were for artificial insemination D with Ethans sperm.

When I confronted her, she was totally unapologetic. Im just borrowing his genes, honey. I want our child to have the best possible start. Does the biological connection really matter? The kid will still call you Dad.

"Divorce," I said. I wasnt about to be anyones patsy. This kid? Whoever wanted to be the father could be the father. Not me.

...

After they left the clinic, I slipped the receptionist some cash and got the whole story. Artificial insemination. My wife. And Ethan. Great. Just great.

I flew home that night. Sarah arrived shortly after, kicked off her heels, and collapsed on the couch. Honey, my feet are killing me. Foot rub?

I sat on the other end of the couch, scrolling through my phone, pretending not to hear.

She waited, her perfectly pedicured toes, still encased in black stockings, wiggling expectantly. When I didnt jump up with the basin and hot water, she looked surprised. Mark? Did you hear me?

Yeah. My eyes stayed glued to the phone.

Well? If youre too tired, I can just go to that fancy foot spa again. You did just load my account with another ten grand, after all. She smiled, then ran her foot up my leg. But I prefer your touch. You know I love it when you pamper me. She winked. And you always said you loved rewarding me.

I glanced at her flat stomach, then pushed her leg away and stood up.

Confusion flickered across her face. Mark, whats wrong? Is something bothering you?

Nothing. Im tired. Going to bed.

I went to the bedroom and lay down. Sarah followed, a small, elegantly wrapped box in her hand. Honey, I got you something on my trip. Want to open it?

Her fake enthusiasm irritated me. A gift from her trip? Probably a nice, shiny green hat. I ripped the wrapping off. Inside were three watches, two large, one small. I took one look and tossed the box in the trash.

Sarah froze. Mark! What was that about? Dont you want a baby? Were going to have one! These are matching Rolexes, a family set. I had to pull some strings to get them.

I saw right through her innocent act. Pull strings with Ethan, you mean?

Well, yeah. I dont know much about watches, so I asked his opinion. He said they were the latest thing, impossible to find here. Whats the big deal?

No big deal. You and himno big deal at all. Keep them. Wear them with your new family.

Mark! Dont be ridiculous. Are you seriously throwing a tantrum? Over this? You want a divorce?

"Yes."

Her face hardened. Mark, I told you before we got married, Ethan is like a brother to me. My parents practically raised him, and they made me promise to look after him. When did you get so petty? Are you even a man?

I almost laughed. "You're unbelievable. I'm tired. We're sleeping separately. You take the guest room."

I didn't need to look back to know she'd retrieve the watches from the trash and treat them like sacred relics. Perfect for their little family.

Lying awake in the guest room, I kept thinking about the summer we met

I was back home, scavenging chestnuts to pay for college. Two pretty girls were taking pictures on a precarious rock formation overlooking a steep drop. A gust of wind, a slip, and they both started to fall. I lunged, grabbing one, my body halfway over the edge, my arm shredding against the rock as I hauled her back. The other girlthey found her body days later, in pieces.

At the hospital, the doctor told me my arm was messed up, probably scarred for life, limited mobility, maybe even disabled. The girl Id saved was there. Thats when I learned her name: Sarah Miller.

Three years later, I graduated college, unemployed. My arm, plus my less-than-marketable degree, meant two months of rejection letters. Then, miraculously, I landed a job at a Fortune 500 company. I thought it was divine intervention. My first day, I saw Sarah. And her CEO father. Turns out, it wasn't God. It was her. Repaying her debt.

I didn't refuse. She was interning at her dad's company, and we fell in love. Her father was furious. Wrong side of the tracks. Sarah gave him an ultimatum: marriage or a shotgun wedding. He caved.

For years, I endured the cold shoulder from her family, the subtle digs, the lack of respect. But I never complained. I gave Sarah everything, indulged her every whim, no matter how unreasonable. Washing her feet was the least of it. I thought wed grow old together. All I wanted was a child. Which is why Id flown to see her, timed with her ovulation and business trip, hoping to surprise her.

Surprise, I got. But not the good kind.

Ethan had just returned from overseas, and my father-in-law insisted Sarah pick him up, personally, and gave him a cushy executive position. Me? Years at the company, and I was still a low-level clerk, practically invisible. Company policy, apparently. My father-in-law didn't want me "tarnishing the family image." Translation: He was ashamed of me.

I swallowed it. No complaints.

At Ethans welcome-back dinner, Sarah greeted him with a full-on kiss. My jaw dropped. She brushed it off as a European thing, they were practically siblings. I bought it. Different upbringing, right? I didn't want to embarrass her. But I saw the look in Ethan's eyes. It wasnt brotherly.

After that, they were inseparable, laughing, whispering, working late. I tolerated it. But her refusal to have my child, the perfectly timed business trips, choosing artificial insemination with Ethans sperm instead that was the breaking point.

I couldn't sleep. The next day, Sarah banged on the guest room door. "I'm starving! Where's lunch? Why are you still in bed? This place is a mess! What have you been doing?"

I rolled over, a bitter smile on my face. After we married, Id pampered her so much, she probably didnt know which way the kitchen door opened. I thought I was being a good husband. Now I just felt stupid.

"Get up! Go make some food!" She shoved me, like I was some obedient servant. Useful when needed, disposable when not.

"Make your own. You're not my wife anymore." I sat up, looked at her perfectly made-up face, and walked out.

Panic flashed in her eyes, quickly masked. What are you talking about? If Im not your wife, who is? Are you going to keep this up?

Just stating facts.

You!

"From the moment you decided to have Ethan's baby, you stopped being my wife. Its over."

"Did someone tell you something? Some lie?"

"I saw it with my own eyes." I turned to leave.

She grabbed my arm. I just borrowed his sperm! I want a child with good genes. Is that so wrong? Does biology really matter? The kid will still call you Dad! I havent done anything wrong!

Divorce, I repeated. This free ride of a fatherhood? Someone else could have it.

I left and went straight to the hospital. My arm was throbbing, the old injury flaring up, infected. I ran a fever and felt dizzy. I stayed at the hospital for a few days, avoiding home, focusing on work and the mountain of paperwork required for my resignation.

Leaving work one evening after yet another forced late night, I was headed back to the hospital for a checkup when Ethans secretary stopped me, thrusting a stack of files into my hands.

Mark, Ethan says these need to be done in the next half hour. Youve been here forever, should be easy for you.

Ethan being Sarah's "brother" meant making my life hell. Lately, it had been all late nights, menial tasks, everyone dumping their work on me. Id given notice, but I still cared about the company, so I'd been playing along. Not tonight.

Can't. Going to the hospital.

Oh, sick again? Convenient timing.

Old injury. My arm. Its in my file.

An arm ache? Really? Dont be such a drama queen. This wont take long. Finish it, then go.

My vision was blurring with pain. Do it yourself. Or dock my pay. I cant.

You cant just walk away from assigned work! Ethan might fire you!

Just then, Ethan and Sarah walked by. The secretary pounced. Ethan, Marks refusing to work. He says hes leaving.

Ethan adjusted his glasses. Yes, its a rush job, important client, everyones working late. Mark, if you have an emergency, you should have just told me directly. No need for this.

Leaving work on time is a problem now? Im sick. Im going to the hospital.

The secretary smirked. Oh, please. I havent used that excuse since grade school.

Sarah chimed in, her voice ice cold. Just do your work, Mark. Whatever illness you have can wait. We dont pay you to sit around doing nothing. She sounded harsher to me than to any other employee.

Sweat dripped down my forehead. I dropped the files at their feet and turned to walk away. "Whoever wants to do it, can do it. Im done."

Youre fired.

Mark! Are you insane? I correct you, and this is how you react?

Dont bother, Sarah, the secretary sneered. Some people are just low-class. You cant polish a turd.

Ethan stepped in, playing the peacemaker. Enough, Karen. Thats not appropriate. Mark'sposition notwithstanding, regardless of his performance, you will show him respect.

Condescending jerk.

I gathered my things, ignoring their snickers, shoving everything into a cardboard box. My hand was shaking so badly, I dropped the box, scattering my belongings at Ethan's feet.

He looked down at me, a smirk playing on his lips. Need some help, Mark? I can be charitable.

Hes just trying to get your attention, Sarah, Karen said, hoping youll feel sorry for him and take him back.

As I knelt, gathering my things, Sarah suddenly spoke. Mark, is your arm hurting?

I didnt answer, sweat stinging my eyes.

She grabbed my arm. Let me see!

I pushed her away. No.

Ethan caught Sarah, then punched me in the face. Dont you dare touch her, you ungrateful piece of

I stumbled, pain shooting through my arm. My sleeve ripped, exposing the angry, red, infected scar.

Everyone went silent.

Sarahs eyes filled with tears. The hospital. Now. Come on.

I gave a weak smile, found some string to tie up the box, and walked away, dragging it behind me.

Sarah started to follow, then stopped with a cry. Ethan? Whats wrong?

He clutched his head, his face contorted in pain. Nothingjust a headacheforgot my medication.

Karen rushed to his side. Sarah, its my fault! I forgot to remind him! He works so hardhis migraines are acting up again. From his time studying abroad.

The hospital! Now! Ill drive.

As I turned the corner, I could still hear the commotion, and I laughed, a bitter, painful laugh, as I dragged my box away, alone.